The Things Remained
by CiZiwejes
Summary: A one-shot prompted on E/O WOW: fervor and relax. Sick! Sammy and concerned! John. Sometimes when people left, they didn't leave completely. They remained in the most unexpected form.


Disclaimer: Nope, not mine.

a/n: This one-shot was prompted from the E/O drabble challenge words: fervor and relax, and the challenge of sick! Sam and concerned! John. Sammygirl, consider this as a post-birthday gift. And sorry for the grammar mistakes or any mistakes at all. They were all mine. Truly, this one came without purpose, just following what my heart was telling me.

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**The Things Remained**

"Shit!"

That was the tenth time he let the curse slipped out his tongue. It was not as if he intended for it to happen on purpose though. The situation was too tense he couldn't think straight.

It had been almost an hour and Sammy was still crying out loud, he was blue all over. The baby was running a very high fever and situation had turned for the worst when red malicious rashes started to form all over his body. John had tried everything to cool him down – he even tried ice bath - but nothing seemed to work.

If anything, it was getting worse as the fever spiked alarmingly over the last fifteen minutes. The baby refused to drink and he puked everything John tries to make him eat. Not drinking and not eating, not helping much.

Now John was carrying Sammy in his arms, shushing and lulling the baby, trying to soothe him. He wished Mary's here. Mary was always able to make things better. John on the other hand was a terrible nurse. The last time Sammy whimpered over a diaper rash, he totally freaked out and almost knocked himself out while running through the door to get to Mary. Mary on the other hand had coolly handled the baby and put him back to sleep without much effort.

God! Where's Mary when you need him? Then realization hit and John was heartbroken. Yeah, he forgot. Mary was no more. The fire took her away. His baby was taken away from him months ago. John swallowed his despair and buried his face on Sammy's burning head.

"Please Sammy…" He pled. "Stop crying..."

John felt like crying himself. It was torturing to see how much Sammy is suffering. The wailing had intensified and it told John the baby is in a lot of pain. His baby was in pain and he couldn't do anything to help.

He felt helpless – the same feeling he had the night he saw Mary pin to the ceiling, looking at him with accusing eyes. _'Why don't you save me?'_ the eyes screamed to him and damn! John was still seeing the eyes and hearing the scream even when he was awake.

Rocking the baby gently in his arms, John paced up and down the room – his mind tangled and his heart sick. Sammy started screaming and tiny arms flailed aimlessly, as if wanting something he couldn't get.

"Sammy..." John felt his eyes hot with tears. He walked back to the bed and froze seeing the intense gaze of his oldest. Green round eyes looked at him warily, almost near tears.

John was taken aback. Now that kid was another story. Looking into his eyes, John couldn't help but be reminded that he was a terrible father. Maybe he was not supposed to be one. Maybe the idea of him having kids was wrong from the very beginning. To think that he had a terribly sick baby and a boy who refused to talk made his heart ache. John was not sure how long he would be able to handle all this without breaking down.

"Dean…go back to sleep." John asked wearily. He was tired – _tired of failing_ - and looking at his son's troubled face didn't help much. It just reminded him more of his failure to save their mom, his beloved.

For the first time since the fever spiked, John put Sammy down to bed. The baby hadn't stop wailing though. The rashes seemed to get nastier as the clock ticks. John sat on the bedside, with his back to his sons, and buried his face in his hands. With that cover, he was free to let the tears rolled.

"I'm sorry Dean," John mumbled between hiccups. "I'm sorry for being a bad father." He whispered, almost inaudible.

Suddenly it went quiet. The baby's wails were reduced to soft sobs. John turned around abruptly, almost expecting for the worst. _No! No! No! Please no!_

But the sight that greeted him made John gawk with surprise.

There was Dean, cradling baby Sammy in his arms, his cheek brushing the baby's forehead and his lips kissing the baby's cheek. He rocked his baby brother in his arms with the same gentleness John was familiar with – Mary's. Dean was singing the same lullaby Mary used to sing to lull his sons to sleep.

Wait! Dean was singing?

"Hush now Sammy…everythin's goin' to be okay." Dean said softly as he caressed the baby's head. "Daddy's here…I'm here…" the four year old looked up to his dad and then back to Sammy.

"And mommy's here." Dean put one hand on his chest, where his heart thumped, and then pointed a finger to Sammy's chest. "Always…"

The baby returned the gesture by grasping his big brother's finger, holding it in his tiny hand. The fevered eyes looked up to Dean droopily before they finally closed. Soon after, Sammy succumbed to sleep – one thing John had desperately tried to make him do since an hour ago.

John felt his face hot as his eyes were brimmed with tears. All those months of grieving for the loss, John was oblivious that the deceased never really leave until the people they left behind forget. He had forgotten. He had abandoned the good times he had with Mary. He had forgotten that though he had lost Mary, he still had the best things that ever happened to him and Mary – their sons.

And Dean, in the simplest gesture that took John months to realize, had reminded him of the good things he had remained. He might have lost Mary in the fire but he saved their boys, the last treasure he and Mary had shared with equal fervor and love. So maybe he didn't fail too badly. Maybe he had won somehow.

Looking at his sons, John allowed himself to relax a bit. Sammy was sound asleep in Dean's arms. But when John gazed up to Dean, he was jolted up, almost stumbling to the floor.

Dean seemed to be basked in a bright light that shone from behind him. Squinting hard, John stared into the light and was aghast to see a faint figure that he had longed for so long. It was Mary, smiling so sweetly John felt his heart warmed. John found himself smiling back to her - _or it_.

A blink and then she was gone, and everything went back to normal.

But the smile on John's face didn't fade.

He stared down at Dean who hasn't stop lulling and singing to Sammy. That kid, now John saw it, resembled so much of Mary. The tenderness, the love, the caress…everything were much the same.

_'Guess Sammy never really loses his mommy.'_

Silently, John prayed his thanks. Sammy was given his mommy back in the form of an older brother and Dean was talking again, thanks to his baby brother. His kids were unconsciously taking care of each other, holding to one another like a lifeline. What more could John ask for? Yeah! The thing that killed Mary being dead would be nice.

But for now, he was contented with what he had. His sons – _together_.

The End

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a/n: bia1007 and PsiChic, sorry I didn't send this one to be beta'd. I think you girls are in a bad need for a rest. I've troubled you much. So, please enjoy your read and for the first time ever, read for real pleasure. And everyone, thanks for spending the time to read and if you don't mind please leave a review if you found this story worth it. Thanks!


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